


counting to ten, pretending to breathe

by Macremae, OnyxSphinx



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Humor, F/F, Female Newton Geiszler/Female Hermann Gottlieb, Fix-It, Happy Ending, Hijinks & Shenanigans, also got some, and, of sorts, or something, the magical power of having drifted ten years ago and how it saves the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-19 04:08:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22838272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macremae/pseuds/Macremae, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphinx/pseuds/OnyxSphinx
Summary: Newt Geiszler, official ghost of fuckups past, present, and future, is having a decidedly shitty day (or try: ten years) until Hermann turns up like the magic kid from the Shining. Wait, that might not make too much sense. It’s been a while. Let’s take this backwards a bit.
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	counting to ten, pretending to breathe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Macremae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macremae/gifts).



> technically originally a bday gift for newt @bae-science on tumblr but like. after i showed them they wound up adding like 30% more so now they're technically coauthor *shrugs* that's just how life is sometimes

The whole possession thing is meh.

It is! It’s very meh. Sure, on the grand scale of things,  _ horrifying _ , but day to day life? Meh. Very,  _ very  _ meh; the Precursors eat  _ kale smoothies _ , for fuck's sake, and do crossfit! Newton Geiszler, doing crossfit!

Worst of all, perhaps, is the  _ clothing _ , because, for some reason, they seem to think that  _ pencil dresses  _ and  _ Newton Geiszler  _ is a good combination. Well, it is, but not, you know,  _ every day _ .

Anyway—yeah, it’s fucked, and she really hates it sometimes, and spends the day just moping around in Drift-ghost form, and being terrified for the future, and the fate of her friends(? who knows if they’re even  _ friends  _ anymore), but mostly it’s...

Bland.

Depression, actually, is what it reminds her of; that feeling of looking down and doing a damn double-take when you realise, shit, this is your body, and it’s doing things (and  _ since when? _ ), and you genuinely can’t remember the past week or so except in a sort of beige-blue blur.

Anyway.

It’s not  _ all  _ bad, really; being a Drift ghost (or whatever the fuck it is that she is) means she can float through walls which. Cool. As.  _ Fuck??! _ So there’s that, at least; and most of the time, they’re content to just ignore her and leave her to snark at the air.

“...PPDC,” one of the interns finishes, and Newt, ‘sitting’ in midair, perks up.

“PPDC?” she asks.

The interns, of course, ignore her; to be fair, it’s not out of malice—they actually aren’t aware she exists. Thankfully, though, one continues. “Drones,” he says, “are better. They’ll be replacing the old Jaegers in no time, just you wait—Doctor Shao’s going to convince the committee.”

Both Newt and the other intern lean forward. “When?”

“Oh,” the first waves his hand; hems and haws, and then, just as he’s about to answer—

“Is something the matter?”

_ Newt _ . She groans. Well. Not  _ Newt _ -Newt; it’s the Precursors-as-Newt. Geiszler. Whatever. Anyway; she looms, and the intern quails, and it’s  _ boring _ .

“Nothing, doc,” the one squeaks, and Geiszler smiles; placid but pleased, somehow; smug. “J—just the drones.”

“Drones,” Geiszler drawls. “Oh, yes,  _ those _ .” She smiles; again, wider.

“Dicknose,” Newt mutters; Geiszler gives no indication of having heard, but Newt winces a moment later; the sensation of needles under her skin. “Fuck!”

“Yes, you’ll be able to proudly tell your children how you contributed to the safety of humanity,” Geiszler assures, and pats the interns’ shoulders. They flinch.  _ Same _ , Newt commiserates in her thoughts.

They both give identical, tight smiles, and make excuses to escape. Geiszler hums and ambles back to the desk, and Newt follows after, bored out of her mind.

It’s nothing much, really; just planning the end of the human race. It’s chill.

Fuck, she wishes she had like...a ghost radio around. Or a ghost book.  _ Literally  _ anything to fill the time.

On the upside though,  _ maybe  _ Hermann’ll be there, which would be...nice. Really, really nice; she hasn’t seen Hermann in a literal decade, and Newt—Newt  _ misses  _ her, alright? She...she misses her.

* * *

They’re going on about something at Stacker’s kid, and Newt’s more or less just floating here, out above. Mako’s off to the side—older than Newt remembers, but still strong as ever. 

And then—

“Holy shit,” Newt whispers; because there, practically  _ running _ , lab-coat flapping, is  _ Hermann Gottlieb, _ a blinding smile pasted across her face.

“Newton!” she calls.

“Hermannnn,” Geiszler drawls, tilting her head; taps her rose-tinted lenses and pulls them off. “How’ve you been?”

Hermann does that little lip-bite thing—oh, shit, she  _ still  _ does that? “Son of a  _ bitch _ ,” Newt says, “why does she still have to be hot?”

Hermann, mid-way to reaching to Geiszler for a hug, freezes; makes an expression like she’s just sucked on a lemon and yelps, scandalised, “ _ Pardon? _ ”

“Hermann?” Geiszler questions, brows raising in confusion, “is something wrong?”

The realization dawns on her in a terrifying spark of hope: Hermann can  _ see _ her.

Newt looks at her face, shocked, mouth gaping, eyes darting back and forth between her and Geiszler, then at the Precursors, who appear to think nothing is amiss, and makes a very quick decision.

“Hermann,” she says, holding up her hands defensively, “I know your first instinct is to freak out right now, but I am  _ not  _ dicking around when I say that literally both of our lives depend on your pretending like nothing is wrong.”

Hermann blinks, but then, bless her  _ fucking _ soul, gets the memo.

“Er—” she says; her face settles back into a pleasant neutrality. “Nothing, I merely… thought I heard my name. It was nothing, though,” she assures. 

Geiszler’s mouth turns down into a bit of a frown, but she doesn’t pursue it. “Alright,” she says.

“It really is quite good to see you,” Hermann says, “actually—do you have a moment? There’s something I’d like you to take a look at...” She shoots a flat stare over Geiszler’s shoulder, one that clearly reads  _ What have you done _ now,  _ Newton? _

Newt gives a half-smile; floats after. “In my defence,” she says, “I didn’t  _ intend  _ to get possessed by the Precursors.”

Hermann’s eye twitches; hand tightening on her cane, but she continues to carry on the conversation with Geiszler.

* * *

“ _ You what? _ ” Hermann whisper-shouts.

They’ve made off into the bathroom, and Newt’s half-standing in the divider between stalls, Hermann up close, trembling slightly as she jabs her finger at— _ through _ —Newt’s chest; in all truth, this would be kind of funny if not for—

“Genocidal aliens!” Hermann shakes her head; drops her hand; sighs.

“In my  _ fuuuucking _ defense, I was not aware of the fact that, apparently, these things can mind jump. Or, I guess, mind-rent. Minus the exchange of anything. Mostly they just fuck around the place.”

Hermann appears to be grasping at the cocktail straws of sanity. “Newton, quite frankly this is highly upsetting,” she says tersely. A tiny, brainless part of Newt is charmed that she still talks like a notary when stressed.

“Essentially,” she says, “essentially. This is a positive, if you think about it.”

“ _ How _ ,” says Hermann with a glare that could cut glass.

“Well,” Newt says. “If we make it out of this in one piece, boom! Instant proof that I’m innocent.”

“No one else can  _ see you _ , Newton.”

“Yeah, but I’m guessing that you don’t have a reputation of arguing with yourself this clearly.”

Hermann’s embarrassed silence says everything. Newt wants to kiss her so badly it’s unreal. Instead, she reiterates, non sequitur, “Look, I didn’t  _ mean  _ to.”

“Well ‘didn’t mean to’ doesn’t stop the Precursors from attempting to massacre the human race!” Hermann hisses. “Christ, Newton—what am I meant to do?”

“Help me stop them?” Newt says. “I mean, I’ve been trying, but it’d kinda help to have someone who other people can actually  _ hear _ , y’know.”

Hermann pinches the bridge of her nose. “Lovely,” she deadpans. “Well—”

The phone rings.

More precisely, Hermann’s phone rings, and she fumbles for it, digging it out of her pockets; answers it with a swipe. Newt watches her lips thin into a line. 

“Just a moment,” she says; “Newton—I’ve been missed. This will have to be discussed at length later,” and unlocks the door, letting it bang shut behind her.

“Right-o,” Newt says; grins. “It’s not like I have anything better to do than follow you around.” She floats through the door.

It’s actually not half-bad, all considered—she’s got Hermann right now, who can see  _ her _ , which is more than can be said for like, 100% of the rest of the population, and whatever Hermann’s been up to for the last decade is pretty interesting, so Newt’s actually paying attention to what she’s saying.

Not that she didn’t  _ before _ , that is, she just. Has a greater appreciation for it now. 

...aaaaaaand Geiszler is saying, “Hermann, dude, we really  _ have _ to catch up, okay—how about dinner? At my place? You can finally meet Alice!”

Hermann shoots Newt a look that clearly asks, “Who?” ”The Precursors’ equivalent of a Sephora face mask and a glass of red,” she says flatly. 

Hermann looks even more confused, and Newt rolls her eyes. “Alice is a Kaiju brain that they keep in their apartment to do three-fucking-guesses-what with.”

To her credit, Hermann does not full-body cringe as she so clearly wants to do. She does, however, blink rapidly, and says, “Er—I’m afraid I simply do  _ not _ have the time for it, Newton. The, ah, drone-launch, you understand...” she trails off.

Geiszler’s smile turns a little fixed. They never really  _ did _ get the hang of fake-smiling. “Of course,” she says, the words sounding a little forced. “Well, that sucks, man. Next time, maybe?” 

“Next time,” Hermann agrees.

“At this rate, there won’t  _ be _ a next time if you don’t fucking  _ stop their plans for colonisation attempt Nummer zwei _ ,” Newt mutters, scowling.

“ _ Next time, _ ” Hermann says, again. “Perhaps we could get a coffee then, as well? For old time’s sake.”

“Sweet!” Geiszler grins. “Okay, I gotta run, or my boss is going to  _ freak _ —she thinks I’m going to give you company secrets or something, dude, I dunno—, but like,  _ great _ to see you.”

“Likewise,” Hermann says, and hovers awkwardly.

Newt realises, suddenly, in a bolt of clarity that flies over Geiszler’s head, that Hermann is, if even only subconsciously, expecting a  _ hug _ . 

Hermann seems to have realised the same thing just a scant second after  _ Newt _ does, and Newt watches a fucking  _ tragedy  _ play out as her expression crumples for the barest second and then hardens back into a mask of indifference that is hiding pain and loneliness, and Newt would rend the world apart if it meant Hermnan never looked like that again.

She gives a polite smile, pulling in on herself, and says, “Ah—goodbye, then, Newton.”

_ Hug her you fucker! _ Newt wants to yell, but she doesn’t, because that is, a) stupid and b) not going to do anything. She does, however, murmur, “Hermann, I am so,  _ so _ sorry,” but it’s soft and half-hidden as she smooths out an involuntary voice crack, and she doubts Hermann catches it.

Probably for the better. She doesn’t think Hermann needs to deal with  _ her _ long-overdue melt-down over all of this on top of her own shit.

Geiszler shoots back a flippant goodbye and rounds the corner, leaving Newt and Hermann alone.

Newt offers a flimsy approximation of a smile. “Sorry about that,” she says. “I’m a bit of a dick, I know. Do you—?”

“I just—I need a moment,” Hermann says, flatly, but her voice is on the verge of trembling. “Alone.  _ Please _ .”

“Will do,” Newt says, weakly, and floats through the wall and into a storage room.

* * *

They go out for dinner.

Or, more accurately,  _ Hermann  _ goes out for dinner and  _ Newt  _ tags along and curses her non-corporeality because that bowl of potstickers is looking really fucking good right now and she  _ can’t eat them _ .

Hermann hasn’t said much in the last three hours that isn’t monosyllabic, and seems to be operating at least partially, if not fully, on autopilot, which is. Not  _ the _ best.

Newt would be saying something, but she’s  _ also _ not doing the best right now, because that crisis that should have, by all rights, happened  _ literally any time _ in the past decade is happening  _ right now _ and if she had actual lungs, she suspects they would  _ not _ be doing a good job of breathing right now.

So they both just sit there, staring into space, and, in Hermann’s case, picking at her food.

It’s fine.

It’s all fine.

It’s fucking  _ awful _ .

They’re still not talking. They haven’t seen each other in  _ ten years _ and they’re  _ still not talking _ and Newt is going to lose her fucking mind, she’s going to  _ lose _ it, she’s—

“I’m sorry,” Hermann says, at the same time as Newt blurts, “Dude, I know you don’t really like me a ton but please don’t let me end the world.”

They both stop; finally meeting each other's gaze. “ _ Sorry? _ ” Newt repeats, puzzled.

“For not—not  _ noticing _ ,” Hermann says. “Newton, I—you were one of my closest friends. I knew you over a decade, and I still didn’t realise—” she cuts herself off, lips pursing, and swallows. “I. I  _ should _ have known something was wrong. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

“That’s  _ ridiculous _ ,” Newt sputters, mostly out of sheer  _ shock _ , “dude, you couldn’t be expected to—”

“I Drifted with you,” Hermann says, and when the other customers glance her way, lowers her voice before continuing. “I  _ Drifted _ with you, Newton. I—” she struggles for a moment, before, quietly: “I loved you. I ought to have realised— _ something _ .”

“...ah,” Newt says, very eloquently.

Hermann is no longer meeting her gaze. This was a very bad idea, in retrospect, so Newt says the first thing that comes to mind. “So, you’ll help stop Evil!me’s plan, then?”

That gets a soft huff of not-quite laughter, and Hermann says, “Yes, Newton, that was  _ rather _ the point.”

* * *

In retrospect, this could have been planned out much better.

They get caught by the guards.

To be fair, Newt will admit that two scientists running around and trying to sneak into a high clearance laboratory is just a  _ little _ suspicious, but to be fair, it’s kind of  _ necessary _ , since Hermann doesn’t really know any more than  _ she _ does about the Precursors’ plans, which is basically “reopen the Breach and kill all of humanity” without much detail as to the  _ how _ of it.

“Hey!” Geiszler protests when the guards manhandle them into the elevator. “Hey, hey, careful! That shirt is  _ literally _ one-hundred percent silk!”

“Ten years, and they still talk like someone from fucking  _ Vanderpump Rules _ ,” Newt mutters, trailing after them. Hermann rolls her eyes at her, unseen by Geiszler, and readjusts her grip on her cane, and Newt thinks,  _ wait a fucking minute, is she actually about to _ —

She does. It’s hot. Newt’s libido chooses the worst time in the fucking multiverse to return, and she’s left awkwardly smushing herself into a corner of the elevator and reciting the least sexy things she can think of, like the organs of the Kaiju digestive system, and z-star values, and Yako’s countries of the world but slowed down every time there’s a country the U.S. has invaded.

It is, however,  _ extremely _ fun to watch Hermann beat the  _ shit _ out of the guards. It’s slightly  _ less  _ fun when Geiszler brandishes the gun and it goes just a  _ little _ too close to Hermann’s head.

“ _ Careful! _ ” Newt hisses, because Hermann just fucking  _ hugs _ Geiszler.

“If you’re done  _ groping me _ ,” Geiszler says, just short of snappish, “we have an evil world-ending boss to deal with.”

“Right—right,” Hermann says, pulling away, and brushes imaginary dust off her shirt. “Yes, er—let’s.”

And then in the control room, just as Newt realizes maybe she and Hermann should have handled this one on their own, Geiszler enters the code.

“Oh, _ fuck _ ,” Newt says, eyes wide.

“Newton?” Hermann whispers, nervously, “what’s going on?”

“What I’ve been trying to do for ten years,” Geiszler says, not realising the question is aimed at  _ Newt _ . “Ending the world.”

“They just opened the Breach,” Newt says, hysteria tinging her voice, and  _ that’s _ when Geiszler chooses to turn around and  _ catches Hermann staring at empty air and formulating a reply _ .

The expression on her face goes from triumphant to anger. “Hermann!” the Precursors say with a smile like a scorned PTA president, advancing, and, shit, shit,  _ shit fuck no no no _ . “Who’s your friend? Or, well, we actually know who, but we  _ are _ extremely interested in how the hell this is happening.” They shoot a venomous look at Newt. “Newton fucking Geiszler.”

“In the not-flesh,” Newt squeaks.

“Once again, you just don’t know when to shut up, do you? We were so, so nice letting you run your mouth while we took care of your stupid, defective, squishy little meatsack of a body, and this is how you thank us?” They blink, one eye shutting, then the other. “You know, an apology would be really fucking nice right now, because today? Has kind of sucked! And something tells us you’re the one to blame. Would that be a, ah, accurate hypothesis?”

“It’s within the confidence interval, yeah,” she says in an octave only dogs can hear. The Precursors give her a little head tilt.

“Okay super. Because we really do kind of want to get this whole thing over with? So we can get out of your body and spend a nice hour or three beating it to death while you’re back in it. Now,” they say, making little finger motions, “if you wouldn’t mind just scooching your boot over there while we kill Dr. Gottlieb, we’ll go six percent easier on your twitching corpse! Sound good?”

All the incorporeal blood drains from Newt’s face. “No!”

The Precursors beam. “Too bad!”

“Newton,” Hermann says as they begin to advance quickly, not even bothering to hide it anymore, “please, Newton, I know you’re there,  _ do _ something—!”

“ _ I can’t! _ ” Newt screams, and she’s trying, she’s  _ trying _ , but all that does is make the Precursors roll their eyes as they reach Hermann, and she’s violently thrown aside.

When she manages to rise, trying to blink the world back into focus, they’re choking Hermann.

That is.

No. No, no, no, no, fuck this, Newt’s done, real or not she’s going to reach down the Hivemind’s hell-pipe and pull a grenade pin in there. No more planning, no more bystanding, no more  _ fucking _ watching as everything she cares about gets throttled in a cold lab with more blood on the walls than her hands.

She moves as quickly as she can, slamming against the walls the Precursors have thrown up to keep her out; aching and burning from the pain of throwing herself against them and she thinks maybe she might be bleeding,  _ would _ be bleeding if she had a body. The pain is so fucking bad but she  _ has _ to do it, has to stop it because Hermann is  _ rubbing her hands reassuringly and mouthing her name  _ even as her lips are turning blue.

A small, almost invisible crack appears, and then widens, and Newt wrenches herself through it, the jagged opening tearing at her but she doesn’t fucking  _ care _ because she has just enough of a hold to  _ do _ something.

She loosens her grip, tries to remove her hands, but it’s already gone; all she’s managed is to delay the inevitable for a bit. “I’m s—sorry, Hermann,” she chokes, eyes filling with tears. “They’re in my h—head—”

And then, it’s her.

Newt blinks, wrenches her hands away like Hermann’s throat is a hot stove, and stumbles back, unused to her own limbs after so long. Hermann gasps, drawing in a croaking breath of air, and stares at Newt as her face contorts with the struggle to keep control.

“Hermann,” she manages, “Hermann, Hermann, quick, punch me in the face!”

Just as she’s gotten to her feet, Hermann nearly falls over again at this. “I— _ what _ ?!”

“Punch me in the face!” Newt yells, digging her fingernails into her palms. “Hit me with something, just knock me out before they come back!”

“I’m  _ not _ doing that, Newton!” she screeches back, red in the face. Newt throws up her hands.

“For fuck’s sake! Do I have to say something to make me mad at you?

“Maybe!” Hermann says, waving her own hands about. Newt lets out a controlled scream.

“Fine! I taped an episode of  _ Ancient Aliens _ over your recording of that Alan Turing biopic in 2022! Happy?”

Hermann’s face goes blank for the tiniest of seconds, and then without hesitating, she swings her cane back and clocks the side of Newt’s head with a firm  _ thwack _ ! Newt jumps out of herself just in time, still able to feel her heart racing as adrenaline courses through her. She glances at Hermann, a little nervous, then down at her own unconscious body as it topples to the floor. “Uh. Now’s the time to mention that I’m sorry?”

Hermann takes a deep, long-suffering breath and rubs at the already-forming bruises around her throat. Newt winces at the sight of them. “Fuck. Like, incredibly sorry.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Newton,” she says, clearing her throat. “I will be more than returning the favor when you return to your own body.”

Newt lets out a cracked laugh; if she were physical right now, relief would be making her light-headed. “Fuck. God. Okay. We did it.”

Hermann just raises a dry eyebrow and looks pointedly at the still-flashing screens around them. Newt jumps into midair. “Wait. No. Fuck!”

She darts over, Hermann following close behind, and hovers over the keypad. “Okay. Okay. I remember this, I remember the password, I do, it’s in my hippocampus, it’s…” She grits her teeth. “Oh my God. What was the fucking password?”

“Oh for God’s sake,” Hermann snaps, and reaches through Newt to wave her hand in front of her face. “Newton. Breathe and think, in that order.”

Newt sucks in a breath she doesn’t need and rubs her temples, biting down hard on her bottom lip, before the lightbulb finally flicks on in her head. She snaps her fingers. “Wait! Got it! Hermann, pull up that blue box at the bottom left and type in ‘hotgirlapocalypse’!”

With an intensely pained look, Hermann does so, and the screens dissolve into black with the words “command aborted” flashing. She slumps into one of the desk chairs and puts a hand on her quickly rising and falling chest. “Lord on high.  _ God _ .”

Newt’s just about to agree when footsteps echo from behind, and there’s the sound of a gun being cocked. She and Hermann whirl around to see Liwen Shao standing in the doorway, pointing a glock straight at them.

And then Newt’s body. And then the dark screens. And then at the floor, as a look of pure confusion encompasses her face.

“Dr. Gottlieb,” she says, all pretence of professionalism gone at the sight of…whatever the fuck all this must look like. “Do pardon my language, but…what the  _ hell _ happened here?”

* * *

“...which is why we’re going with the holding cell,” Pentecost junior finishes.

“Absolutely  _ not, _ ” Hermann fumes, “Newton is  _ not _ to blame for this.”

“Listen to the physicist,” Newt chirps, to no avail, because Hermann is the only one who can actually  _ hear _ her. 

Hermann shoots her an irritated look. “Shut up, Newton. Ranger,” she says, taking a deep breath. “As I have  _ stated _ , Dr. Geiszler is currently possessed by the Precursors, and has been for the past decade.  _ However _ , I am fully certain, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that she is not  _ gone _ . Mainly due to the fact that she is currently right next to me in the form of what I hypothesize is a kind of Drift ghost, harassing me to no end. Her mind, her  _ own _ mind, must have latched on to the portion still left in my own after our Drift with Kodachi, and allowed her to follow me as well as the Precursors. Therefore, I will continue to  _ insist _ that the PPDC does  _ not _ execute her, or utilise inhumane interrogation tactics to try and get the information they require. I  _ assure  _ you, she will be  _ very _ happy to give you that information  _ of her own free will _ the moment she has full autonomy yet again.”

Her piece said, she inhales sharply.

Newt gives her a look of admiration. “Wow,” she says, and doesn’t even bother to hide how impressed she is. “That was pretty badass of you, Herms.”

“I do insist you shut up,” Hermann murmurs, irritably. “ _ Not  _ you, Ranger. Apologies.”

“ _ You  _ shut up,” Newt snaps back, but without really any bite.

Pentecost exchanges a glance with Lambert. “Alright,” he says, finally. “I’ll...do my best to make sure that doesn’t happen. Uh. Tell Dr. Geiszler hello.”

“ _ Good _ ,” Hermann says icily, “I will. Good day, gentlemen.”

She’s shaking a bit as the door closes behind her, and her grip on her cane is white-knuckled. Newt wishes she could touch her, offer her a hug, do  _ anything _ , but she’s still just a ghost-y whisp of a thing that only Hermann can see.

“Let’s go for a walk,” she says, instead, because that usually helps Hermann calm down a bit, and Newt thinks she needs that, right about now.

Hermann nods, short and sharp, and Newt leads the way.

They end up on the roof. The sun set a few hours ago, and the breeze blows through Hermann’s hair, ruffling it—cold, going by how she shivers and draws her jacket tighter around herself. The light of the moon peeks through the clouds, throwing fingers of milky, pale white over the city, and over Hermann.

“I’m sorry,” Newt says, softly. “I—I always tried, but I couldn’t—” she cuts herself off; the memory too painful; presses her eyes shut.

Hermann doesn’t say anything for a moment. “I know,” she says, finally, just as quiet. “I know you did, Newton.”

“I didn’t try hard enough,” Newt says, bitterly, “and now you’re stuck with—with  _ this _ , and I. I’m sorry, Hermann. I’m so sorry.” She swallows; moves closer, raises her hand and sets it against Hermann’s cheek.

Hermann’s eyes flutter closed, and she lets out a soft breath. “What’s done is done,” she murmurs, “all that we can do now is try and right it.” Her eyes flicker open, and she raises a hand, hovering just above her cheek; giving the illusion that it’s resting against Newt’s own. “I’m here, Newton.”

“A—alright,” Newt croaks.

“We’ll fight the fight and win the war,” she promises, “we’ll get you back, Newton.”

“Will you stay?” Newt asks, quietly; nearly a plea.

“ _ Yes _ ,” Hermann says, “yes, I will. I’ll stay by your side the entire time. I’ll be the first person you see when you open your eyes.” A small, almost-smile plays across Hermann’s face, and she leans forward to press a phantom kiss to Newt’s lips. 

Newt exhales softly; shakily, breath making no movement in the air, and thinks,  _ maybe things will be okay.  _ She’s got Hermann by her side, after all. The tiniest, fragile smile flits across her face. “Are we there yet?” she asks, half-joking. 

Without needing to ask, Hermann holds up her hand, and Newt positions her fingers to intertwine around it in a pantomime of touch. She rubs her thumb across that same space that Hermann did just a few hours before.

“Soon,” Hermann says, eyes soft like she can almost feel it. “Soon.” 

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at [autisticharrow](https://autisticharrow.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


End file.
